Reconditioning
by SickoLady
Summary: A young Oswald Cobblepot is sentenced to Arkham Asylum for his crimes and subjected to a painful new and experimental method of "reconditioning". Oswald murdered someone very important to the doctor overseeing his treatment and will pay for it with blood and tears. Spanking. Torture. Bondage. Explicit. The Penguin descends further into madness.
1. Chapter 1

author's note: Its been suggested that I give this story a stronger disclaimer, and so...here it is: The disclaimer that this perverted fever dream warrants. Are you ready for this. Ok. Here I go: **WHAT FOLLOWS IS A PERVY, MORALLY-BANKRUPT GARBADGE. IT CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND UNPLEASANTNESS THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND DISTURBING**, more specifically physical and psychological torture of the main character. Do not be fooled, for all of my pretentious attempts at artsy-ness, this was still only written to gratify my male bondage fetishism. So if male bondage fetishism is something that upsets you, it may be wise to hit the back button on your internet browser and read something else because even people who like that sort of thing have told me that this story is too dark for them. Apparently, I am very dark and disturbing. Go figure.

Whatever your feelings about sexy boys in straight jackets, however, I invite you to read this god awful fucked up fantasy with the understanding that it is stupid, sexually-frustrated, fan girl wish fulfillment and not to be taken seriously. There's no need to lose sleep at night over it. Really. Its dumb. Get over yourself. Or don't. Whatever. Anyway, please enjoy.

1

I don't know what I was expecting to see when the nurses wheeled the murder of my beloved Rebecca into my office. For some reason I'd pictured him as someone older, perhaps tall and menacing with a permanent scowl plastered across his swarthy face. The man in the strait jacket, sitting in the wheel chair across from me, looks nothing like this, however. For one thing, he's young. This shouldn't surprise me as the file that I had been given to read concerning this particular inmate said that he was twenty-two. However, for some reason his youthful appearance is still jarring to me. The killer is ghostly pale with a large bird-like nose and greasy, disheveled black hair. His eyes are a creepy shade of pale blue and there are dark circles under them.

The killer smiles nervously at me in an expression that suggests both fear and an attempt at politeness. For some reason, I find the stupid look on his face infuriating. I don't let this emotion show, however. I clear my throat and pretend to shuffle through a pile of papers on my desk, determined to maintain an air of professionalism.

"Do you know why you're here, Oswald?" I ask him.

"Yes, doctor, I do. After all, it's only fair that I reward the kindness that the Gotham City justice system has bestowed upon me, by doing my best to repay my debt to society" he tells me and there's something so phony and pandering about this reply that it makes me want to punch him.

"You're here because you're very sick, Oswald."

"Of course."

"Let me explain to you what will happen during your stay a Arkham Asylum," I tell him doing my best to keep my voice low and calm. With every ounce of self control I possess I resist the urge to start ringing his neck and shriek: "_You'll SUFFER, you miserable low down sack of greasy worthless shit! You'll suffer like you've gone to HELL because that's were you belong!"_

"Ok. I'm listening," he tells me, politely. The stupid smirk is gone from his face now, and I think that's his way of telling me that he's paying attention. Perhaps he has mistaken my long pause for an invitation to speak, because he prattles on a little bit about how he'll take this opportunity to change his ways and become a productive, law abiding member of society. I'm not really listening to him. I don't believe a word he says. He keeps talking for a few minutes and during this time, I tune him out completely. I can't stop myself from imagining how satisfying it would be to put a bullet between his eyes right here and right now. I picture myself firing a few rounds into his smirking face and, in my mind's eye, his head explodes. The office walls drip with red chunks of his splattered brains.

I'm snapped out of my gory daydream by the killer's sudden silence.

"Right, good for you," I say. "That's the right attitude to have, young man. I think you'll do well here. Anyway, while you're here at Arkham Asylum, you will undergo an experimental new form of therapy based in theories of operate conditioning. It is called the Hingdimer Method and it is premised upon the theory that the human brain is most malleable when its owner is young, more specifically below the age of 24. You see, in adolescents and young adults, the part of the brain which controls emotions and impulses is still going through a process of development. Which is why, at this stage of your life, your brain is at its most violent and volatile, fortunately, however, your brain it is also currently at its most malleable. Your age combined with the extreme criminal nature of your illness makes you an ideal test subject for proving the effectiveness of this procedure."

"Procedure?" the killer inquires nervously. A hint of fear creeps in to his large, pale eyes. "What kind of a procedure? You're not going to lobotomize me, are you doctor?"

"No. That's not part of the procedure," I say.

"With all due respect, doctor, I don't think I want to be a part of your little experiment. Whatever it is, " he tells me, shifting uncomfortably in the wheel chair.

"You don't have a choice in the matter, ki-_Oswald_. You've brought this on yourself," I say and that time I almost call him "killer" instead of "Oswald". I resolve to try and think of him as "Oswald" as opposed to the cold blooded murderer that ruined my life, from this point forward, just so I don't make that mistake again.

"Very well," Oswald concedes begrudgingly. I can tell he's feeling trapped in that straight jacket because he rocks his body from side to side as though attempting to free himself from it. "Tell me about the procedure."

"You don't have to be so nervous about it, Oswald. Its not very bad," I say. "And I think that it will help you."

I stand up and walk over to his wheelchair. Oswald has the look of a cornered rat as I approach. He bites his lip and the muscles in his face contort into a pleading simper.

"Firstly, you'll be given drugs to calm you down and suppress your violent urges. Three a day at breakfast lunch and dinner. Secondly, you will attend operate conditioning sessions with me, which will involve you answering questions while hooked up to a lie detector machine."

"That actually doesn't sound that bad," says Oswald sounding relieved. His shoulders relax a little.

"If you lie during these sessions or say something crazy that I don't like, you will be disciplined," I tell him and his shoulders tense again. His mouth falls open and he starts to shake a little bit. "Of course some forms of physical discipline are illegal in Gotham, but I am authorized to administer you electric shocks, which will cause sharp intense pain, but no lasting tissue damage. It is also perfectly within my rights to give you a good hard _spanking _if you misbehave."

I enjoy the way that Oswald flinches when he hears me say the word "spanking." Like the _word_ has smacked him on the ass. Already, I can picture Oswald bent over a hospital cot, howling and begging for mercy as I strike his bright red behind again and again. The thought makes me smile sadistically, because I plan to give Oswald so many severe whoopings that he'll never sit right again.

Oswald laughs nervously.

"That won't be necessary, doctor. I promise I'll be the model inmate," he simpers obnoxously. He stands up and starts waddling toward the door, like a penguin. Every step he takes makes me think that he's about to fall over.

"You better be," I tell him.


	2. Chapter 2

2

At lunch time, I watch as a nurse approaches Oswald and attempts to give him his pill. She holds the pill out in front of Oswald and Oswald stares at it, looking confused.

"This pill looks a little big to swallow," he says.

"You don't swallow it," the nurse tells him. "Its a suppository."

"A _what_?"

"A suppository. It goes in your butt," the nurse explains dryly.

"I know what it means."'

"Alright then, pull down your pants and bend over so that I can administer your medication, Mr. Cobblepot," the nurse instructs him.

Oswald stares at her incredulously with his brows furrowed.

"No," he tells her bluntly. He sits down at one of the crowded tables and resumes eating his lunch.

"Mr. Cobblepot, I haven't got all day," the nurse says, annoyed.

"Ma'am, you should know that I am a very dangerous man," snarls Oswald frighteningly. "So think again if you want to try and humiliate me with that indignity."

The nurse walks over to a few guards standing by the entrance to the asylum mess hall. She tells them something and they nod in agreement. The next instant, a pair of large muscular guards, are seizing Oswald by the crooks of his arms and wrenching him out of his seat. Oswald screams and writhes, kicking his legs wildly, but its no use, the guards easily pin him so that he is bent over the table.

Oswald breaks into a spasm of awkward nervous chuckling and then begs to be spared.

"Oh gosh...oh gosh...the funny thing is, I was already given that pill," he sputters dishonestly. "Your records must be mixed up or something! You wouldn't want me to over dose would you?"

The nurse pulls the elastic waist band of Oswald's Asylum issued pants down exposing his pale round butt. A few of the inmates hoot and whistle.

Oswald's face gets red like a tomato and he whimpers: "Please. No. Please don't do this to me."

The nurse puts a pair of plastic gloves on and pushes the suppository between Oswald's butt cheeks with her index finger. He flinches and attempts to pull away.

"Sorry, this is for your own good, Mr. Cobblepot," the nurse says.

The guards release Oswald and he quickly pulls his pants back up.

"Ow, _ow_! Why does it _burn_?" he whimpers indignantly. Some of the other inmates are laughing at him now and he looks dejected. The blush hasn't faded from his pale cheeks.

I suppose that I should feel a little bit sorry for him but I don't. He's a cold blooded psycho gangster, who once killed a man for his tuna fish sandwich, and I have no sympathy for him what so ever. The lunatic murdered my beloved Rebecca in cold blood, and if he is ever released from Arkham Asylum, I am sure that he will kill again.

A bald cross-eyed lunatic with a plastic spoon taped to his head, points at Oswald and laughs wildly. Oswald lunges across the table at him and tries to stab him with a shank he made out of a broken piece of lunch tray, some wire and a pencil. The guards tackle him before he can do any real damage, knocking the shank out of his hand.

Oswald flails and struggles as the guards force him back into the straight jacket. The guards release him and he staggers back over to one of the lunch tables screaming:

"You'll be sorry, _you'll all be sorry_! Someday I'm going to own this city, and when I do-you're going to _wish_ that you'd been nicer to me!"

This outburst only elicits a fresh barrage of laughter from the surrounding inmates.

"Yea, and I'm_ Abraham Lincoln_!" one of the inmates laughs. Then he stops laughing abruptly and his eyes dart around in his head as though chasing an invisible fly. "No_ really_. I _am_."

Oswald, sits down at one of the emptier lunch tables, and closes his eyes slumping over the table defeatedly. For a second, I almost expect him to start crying, but he doesn't. Instead he covers his greasy hair with his pale hands and puts his head down on the table, refusing to make eye contact with other inmates.

I grin sadistically, hiding this brief lapse in professionalism behind my coffee mug as I quickly drain its contents. I picture myself waggling my finger in disapproval. _Making a prison shank? Naughty, naughty, Oswald. You deserve a corrective ass whooping for that, _I think tauntingly. Then I scribble something down on the clip board that I'm currently holding. The nurses must think that I'm writing scientific notes about him, but really I'm drawing a picture of me stabbing him repeatedly in the face.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Later that afternoon, Oswald waddles into my office, escorted by a pair of guards. He glares at me miserably. I see that he's still wearing the straight jacket.

"Come in, Oswald, sit down," I greet him warmly.

Oswald waddles over to a chair in front of my desk and sits down. The guards stay by the door and watch him silently.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," he answers me bitterly. His expression has not changed much.

"Good afternoon," I greet him in reply. Then, I walk over to the lie detector machine by the side of his chair.

"Today, I'm going to hook you up to the lie detector machine and ask you a few questions about your childhood," I tell him. "You will answer truthfully."

"...What if its none of your business?" Oswald mutters bitterly.

"You will answer truthfully," I repeat as though he hadn't heard me the first time.

I proceed to hook him up to my machine, which is a lie detector combined with a remote control electric shock dispenser. First, I remove his straight jack and strap his arms down to the sides of the chair. Then, I strap something resembling an electrode-studded leather halo around his greasy head. I lift up his shirt and attach electrodes to the bare skin on his chest and belly. The shirt falls back down over the wires when I am finished.

I walk back over to my desk and sit down behind it, ceasing my clipboard in one hand and the remote control (with which to administer the electric shocks) in the other. Owald's got that cornered rat expression again. His eyes grow wide and his thin lips contort spastically. _That's right bastard, you're going to suffer_, I think sadistically. _You're going to suffer and suffer and suffer until you're a blubbering mess, and then you're going to suffer some more._

I turn toward the guards by the door.

"You can leave, now. I've got everything under control" I say to them. "Let's give Oswald his privacy. I'll call you if I need you."

The guards leave the room and close the door behind them. I turn back toward Oswald.

"Tell me about your childhood. What were your parents like? Your mother?"

"My mother is an extremely wonderful lady," He tells me. I can see from the readings that the lie detector machine is giving me that he believes he is telling the truth. "She is among the rare few decent people in this world."

"Interesting. What about your father?" I ask him.

"I'd rather not talk about him," he says.

"Fair enough. We'll come back to that one. Were you abused as a child, Oswald? Physically? Emotionally? Sexually?" I ask him.

"No," he says and the machine loudly shocks him. He lets out a yelp of pain.

"Really, because it seems like you're lying to me," I say.

"I-I would never lie to you, D-doctor," he stutters fearfully and then lets out another pained yelp as the machine shocks him again.

Oswald slumps forward in his chair and whimpers, closing his eyes tight against the residual ache of the electric shocks.

"Tell me about the abuse," I say.

"I wasn't abused!" Oswald shouts in frustration.

"Aagh!" he screams as the machine shocks him again.

"Tell me about the abuse," I say again.

"I told you, I wasn't abused!" Oswald shouts again.

"Gaaagh!" he shouts as the machine shocks him yet again.

"Tell me about the abuse," I say a third time, anticipating his next pained yelp with delight.

"This is horrible!" he whimpers loudly. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

"Very well," I say. "We can revisit this topic at a different time. What about friends? Did you have any friends as a child, Oswald?"

"Very few," Oswald admits.

"That's too bad. Why not?" I say.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Oswald says.

I push the button on my remote control and give him another shock. This time the shock makes his body convulse and he shouts: "_Ouch_!" in a pathetic, teary voice.

"Alright, I'll talk about it. Just please don't hurt me anymore," he pleads. "When I was very young, I didn't have many friends. I was a chubby kid, and the other kids always said that I was really ugly and stupid looking. They all started calling me a penguin."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess they thought that I looked like a penguin," says Oswald.

I have to admit that Oswald does remind me somewhat of a penguin. His sharp nose combined with the stark contrast of his dark black hair against his pale skin, causes him to bear an unusual resemblance to one. The fact that he has pointed out the resemblance only makes me see it more.

"Once," Oswald tells me. "There was this formal event at my school and my mother dressed me in a tuxedo. The kids all laughed at me because they thought that I looked more like a penguin than ever. Then, as soon as the adults weren't looking, they started shouting: 'Penguin, penguin, Cobblepot's a penguin!' over and over again. They pushed me down and started kicking me, and they kept laughing at me and shouting that I was a penguin, and I cried and cried but they just kept kicking me and laughing at me, and before the adults pulled them off of me, I wet myself."

"What a terrible story. You must hate to be called that," I say.

"For the longest time, I hated it more than anything. But then...I learned to embrace the name. The Penguin. That's what they call me. Its my gang name... and I embrace it because...I like the idea that the name that a name that once hurt me...is a name that people now fear. That's what I call irony. That's what I call artistic justice. I am The Penguin and people fear me. Because I am a man to be feared."

I dislike Oswald's self indulgent "man to be feared" speech so much that I give him another electric shock. He screams out in pain and starts hyperventilating.

"Why did you shock me!" he whimpers indignantly. "I told the truth!"

"Crazy," I tell him tauntingly. "I shocked you because you said something crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" Oswald shouts. "I lied about being crazy so they'd stick me here instead of jail!"

I push the button on my remote control and administer another shock.

"That's just like something a crazy person would say," I tell him, smirking.

I pause my interrogation momentarily, during which time, Oswald hyperventilates and rocks himself back and forth in the chair.

"Did you make a prison shank today, Oswald," I ask.

Oswald glances fearfully down at the wires sticking out of the front of his shirt and then answers me honestly:

"Yes."

"You attacked a man with it today. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"What was your intention when you did that?" I ask.

"I was going to slit his worthless throat open," Oswald hisses angrily.

I push the button on my remote control and give Oswald another good shock. He screams as his body convulses with electricity.

"That's bad," I say. "Slitting throats open is bad, Oswald. You'll have to be punished for that."

I walk over to him and remove the electrodes from his head and torso. He breaths a cautious sigh of relief-but then I tell him:

"Do you see that hospital cot over there? I want you walk over there and bend over it so that your bottom is in the air. Its time for a spanking."

Oswald becomes visibly upset again almost immediately. He glances over at the cot and then back at me, his body trembling. He gives me a pleading look, and then bites down on his lower lip.

"Come now, doctor, I'm sure that's not necessary," he says.

"I'm waiting, Oswald."

"Y-you can't treat me like this. I'm not an animal."

"You're going to have you to cooperate with disciplinary procedure, Mr. Cobblepot, or you will be restrained while I administer your punishment," I say.

"I will do no such thing," Oswald answers indignantly.

It seems that he's determined to find it some way to save himself from his impending beating. He tries to flatter me; assumes a false sense of familiarity, which I find detestable. When that doesn't work he tells me that he has to go to the bathroom, and when that doesn't word he falls down on the floor and pretends to be having a heart attack. Ofcourse, I believe none of his lies and except none of his excuses. Instead, I watch with a calm indifferent expression on my face as he flops around on the floor, gripping his chest. I take a sip my of coffee. He flails stupidly for a few minutes and then collapses from the exhaustion of his performance, breathing hard.

I can see that I'm not about to convince him to cooperate. I call the guards back in and have them escort Oswald over to the cot. I think that Oswald accepts his powerlessness now, because he walks with them without much of a struggle. I catch a glimpse of his expression before the guards push his head down onto the cot, forcing him to bend over. He's blushing and looks like he's about to cry, at long last, resigned to his humiliating fate.

I open one of my desk drawers and retrieve a large, heavy paddle. I've also got a steel pipe in the drawer but I'll have to wait until no one is watching me to hit him with that.

Then, I walk over to the place were Oswald is bent over the table. The guards watch incase he gets up and tries to attack me.

I yank Oswald's pants down, just enough so that his round white butt pokes out. Oswald is relatively slim, but his bottom is chubby and sticks out a little bit. I can't help but think that it reminds me of a penguin tail. It's very undignified.

I bring the paddle back as far as I can and then bring it down hard against his chubby little penguin butt. A loud SMACK echoes throughout the room. Oswald's butt cheeks clench involuntarily and his back arches, but he doesn't make a sound. His silence infuriates me.

A subtle redness spreads across Oswald's bottom. I strike him again, reproducing the loud SMACK and the redness grows. His fat little butt giggles when its struck, but again, he doesn't yelp or cry out.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I bring the paddle down on his behind hard and fast, it gets redder and redder with every blow. Now I'm spanking him as hard and as fast as I can, filling the room with the sound of those loud undignified smacks. He begins to yelp involuntarily when struck. His body finches. Bloody welts and bruises are raised on his behind. I don't stop. I keep hitting him as hard as I can. His yelps dissolve into whimpers and then into fits of quiet sniffling.

Oswald's trying to hide the fact that he's crying now. He covers his face with his hand and breathes hard to try and control himself. I smack his bright red ass a few more times with the paddle and he breaks down into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

"Please, don't hit me anymore!" he begs we in a pathetic tear-choked voice.

I ignore his plea and strike his bruised red ass again, the skin there is starting to shift from bright tomato red to dull murky purple. I keep spanking him while he sobs and the bruise spreads. It grows darker and in places the skin begins to break open and bleed out.

"Please! No more! Have pity on me!" he weeps pitifully.

Again I ignore his irritating plea, and continue paddling his black and blue tush as though attempting to pound it flat. Oswald begins yelping: _ow! ,_every time he's struck. I enjoy the broken hopelessness in his voice, the incredibly pathetic self pity. He's not trying to act tough now. What was left of his dignity is broken.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! _Oww! Owwwie! Wahhahahaa! Mommy!_" he snivels pitifully. I think he wants me to feel sorry for him but I don't. Whether this is a ploy for his release from the punishment or not, his sniveling makes me hate him even more.

Perhaps this fresh mental break down is making the guards uncomfortable. I hadn't paid much attention to them before, but now I glance over at them and see that they're looking at Oswald with pity in their eyes...and at me like I'm a monster. Do I have to remind them that this man is a killer? All of the adorable blubbering in the world can't change that. He deserves to be punished.

I strike the weeping Oswald a cross his fat butt cheeks with the paddle again.

"Ow!" he sobs.

I put the paddle back down on my desk, but leave his pants down for awhile longer to further humiliate him. His ass is bloody and purple and he's sobbing uncontrollably. I must say, I'm very satisfied with the results of this first punishment. The only thing that could have made it better is if he had wet himself.

"Pull your pants back up, Oswald." I tell him. "Your punishment is over."

_For now_, I think to myself sadistically.

Oswald straightens up and pulls his pants back over his purple swollen backside. He flinches as the fabric brushes against his tender damaged flesh. Then puts his face in his hands and breaks into a fresh spasm of awkward sobbing. As he does this, he leans sideways against the cot to take pressure off of his damaged leg, the one which causes him to limp and waddle like a penguin.

I cries for a few minutes and I listen to it as I sip my coffee indifferently. Then I say:

"You may leave now, Oswald. I'll see you again at this time tomorrow."

Oswald waddles out of my office, still crying. He rubs his aching butt. The guards leave as well, and when they are gone. The door closes behind them. The instant I feel that I am alone, my professional mask slips off and I smirk sadistically, Oswald's pain-filled sobbing still ringing in my ears.


	4. Chapter 4

4

I watch Oswald as he waddles down the hallway and away from my office. I don't think he notices me watching him, or if he does notice me, he must not care, because he makes no effort to conceal the fact that he's crying. A pretty young nurse runs up to him. She moves with the delighted urgency of someone who's spotted a an adorable newborn puppy, and wants to be the first person in the room to pet it.

The young nurse puts a hand on one of Oswald's shoulders. He flinches and I expect him to jerk away from her touch but he doesn't. He stands there and tolerates her attempt to comfort him. Probably because she's blond and has perky tats.

"Aw..._sweetie_...what's wrong?" the young nurse asks. She has an irritating perkiness about her.

Oswald answers her with more pitiful sobbing.

"Shh...It's ok," the nurse croons.

"...T-this is a _horrible_ place..." Oswald sniffles.

The young nurse wraps her arms around him and holds him while he cries. I feel sick to my stomach.

"I want to go home..." Oswald sniffles and the young nurse pats him on his greasy head like he's a small child.

"Awww..._sweetie_..." the young nurse squeals again. "How about I get you some candy? Would that make you feel better?"

And now I feel like I'm about to vomit.

"...ok..." Oswald murmurs tearfully.

The young nurse puts a hand in the pocket of her scrubs and retrieves a piece of peppermint candy, which she then unwraps and puts into Oswald's mouth. She brushes his bangs away from his forehead and gives him a sympathetic smile and another hug.

"Feel better?" she asks.

"_No_," Oswald sniffles bitterly.

"How about I get you a tissue?"

The young nurse walks across the room and retrieves a box of tissues from a cabinet. The she returns to Oswald, pulls several tissues out of the box and hands them to him. Oswald takes the tissues and blows his nose with them.

"Thank you," he tells her.

She looks into his swollen, red-rimmed eyes, with what I can only assume is lust.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Oswald Cobblepot."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Cobblepot," the young nurse says. "My name is Nurse Kim."

"Please. Call me Oswald."

"Sure thing, honey. You just come over and talk to me whenever you need me, ok? I'm here for you whenever you feel sad and you want to talk, alright?" says Nurse Kim.

"Ok."

"Why don't you come sit down with me for a while, Oswald?" says Nurse Kim, brushing a piece of dark hair behind one of Oswald's ears.

"I'll stand," Oswald says.

"Oh no, I'm sorry. Did you just get a paddling?" the nurse inquires apologetically.

Oswald nods sullenly.

"Aw, you poor thing. I'll get you some ice for your tushy," Nurse Kim says.

She walks away, presumably to retrieve and ice pack for Oswald's paddled ass. Oswald waddles after her. I return to my office and plot ways to bully him during our next session.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Over the course of the next few weeks, I see Oswald again and again for reconditioning sessions in my office. I take notes that are really just drawings of me chopping him into pieces. I hook him up to the lie detector machine, drill him on his opinions and experiences then give him a nice painful shock when he says something that I don't like. Which is often. I find excuses to beat him which become stupider and stupider, as he becomes more and more broken and puts up less and less resistance. He expects to be beaten. He starts crying about it before I even strike him now, because he knows its coming. He murmurs things to himself like a mad man, trembling and rocking himself back and forth. If he had a psychosis before, it must be at least ten times more debilitating now. If he were any one other than the murderer of my precious Rebecca I might have felt sorry for him, perhaps even tryed to help him in the way that I was pretending to help. As it is, however, I am only working up to my ultimate revenge. I will slit his throat tomorrow and end his miserable life.

I examine the implement with which I will take my revenge: a long sharp hunting knife with a serrated edge. I will strap Oswald down to a table and saw right through his throat until he's dead. He won't resist being restrained. He's learned that he can't weasel his way out of punishments; that whatever pain that I choose to inflict upon him is inevitable. He'll think that I'm just going to hurt him. He won't suspect that I'm planning to kill him until its too late.

I glance over to the computer monitor on my desk. It displays a live video feet of Oswald's cell.

I watch him, fingering my murder weapon thoughtfully. He's laying on his belly on a cot in the middle of the darkened grey room. Unaware of the hidden cameras I've installed, he weeps quietly into his pillow, gingerly massaging what I imagine must be an unbearably sore and swollen behind.

I hear a barred door swing open and Nurse Kim walks into the room, looking distraught.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" she asks him.

Oswald answers her with more quiet weeping. She sits down on the edge of his bed and runs her fingers through his dark hair. He whimpers and then falls silent. She withdraws her hand.

"Don't stop," he sniffles. "It feels good."

Nurse Kim begins stroking Oswald's hair again. He's quiet for awhile and then turns his face toward her.

"Kim?"

"What is it, sweetie?" Nurse Kim replies.

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you for a favor?"

"I'd be happy to do you a favor. Whatever you need," says Kim, looking confused. I can practically see her little brain working, trying to figure out what he's about to ask her. Her expression becomes slightly concerned. She suspects as well as I do that he's about to ask for something unprofessional.

"Would you kiss me?" Oswald asks. He puts one of his hands over Nurse Kim's hand and she quickly withdraws it.

Nurse Kim stands up and takes a few steps away from Oswald's cot, facing away from him.

"H-honey, I can't. I'm sorry. It's not professional. I'd lose my job. I'm sorry," she blurts out nervously.

"That's ok. I understand. I wouldn't want to kiss me either," says Oswald, putting his face in his hands. "Forgive me, Kim. That was out of line."

He turns his head away from her and starts sniffling again.

"Oh..._oh Oswald_, I'm so sorry. Please don't cry," Nurse Kim says walking back over to him.

"Why'd you come in here anyway?" he asks her bitterly.

"Its time for your medication," Nurse Kim replies.

"Forget it. I'm not taking it."

"Sweetie, you have to take your medication," says Nurse Kim.

"I'm not taking it. It_ hurts_," Oswald complains tearfully.

It hurts because it is a cancerous mixture of hot peppers and turpentine, designed to burn his insides like fire. I grin to myself, because as the person who both invented and prescribed Oswald's medication, I and I alone know of this gruesome secret.

"Oh, honey, I'm sure you're overreacting," Nurse Kim assures him. "Just do me this favor and cooperate, ok? I need to keep this job."

Oswald stands up and looks Nurse Kim in the eye. She takes a nervous step backward.

"Ok," he says. "I'll let you give me the suppository. I'll be very cooperative about it. But first...I want that kiss."

"I'm sorry, Oswald. I can't," says Nurse Kim. "If someone sees me kissing inmates, I'll be fired."

"Is that what I am to you? Just another inmate? I thought you liked me." says Oswald, sounding hurt.

"Oh, _Oswald_, I do like you."

"No you don't. You're just saying that."

"Oswald, I like you a lot," Nurse Kim tells him apologetically.

"No you don't. You're lying. You don't have to lie to me, Kim. You can tell me what you really think," said Oswald angrily. Tears spilled out from his blue eyes and over his pale cheeks. "You think I'm a pathetic, greasy, ugly, worthless son-of-a-bitch, don't you? Well you may be right, but I've got news for you, baby. One day, when I'm finally king of Gotham's underworld, you're going to look back on this day and wish that you'd done something different...because I'll be richer than any man you've ever seen or heard of and you'll still barely be scraping by, working in this abysmal _shithole_ of a hospital!"

"Oswald..._I_...why would you say something like that to me?"

Oswald shakes his head.

"Forget it," he murmurs depressingly. "I'm just being stupid. Go ahead and give me the awful pill if you have to. I won't give you any trouble about it."

Oswald waddled back over to the bed and lays down on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow again. Kim walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. She stares at him for awhile, her expression, thoughtful; distant.

"I changed my mind," she says after awhile.

Oswald sits up. His expression brightens.

"You did?"

"Yea."

Nurse Kim sits down next to Oswald on the bed and lightly kisses him on the lips. Oswald grabs the back of her blond head and sloppily makes out with her. I cringe. He's flopping his tongue around in her mouth like an insane, hyperactive fish having a seizure. The woman's lips grow sticky with his saliva. She pulls her head away from his and wipes her mouth off on the back of her sleeve.

She giggles.

"_Wow."_

"You like that? There's plenty more where that came from," says Oswald obnoxiously, wigging his eyebrows.

"You don't have too much experience at this, do you?" says Nurse Kim.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Nurse Kim leans in toward Oswald and locks her mouth onto his. He closes his eyes and groans a little bit. I suspect that the floozy slut is digging her tongue around in his mouth.

She breaks the kiss.

"Try it more like that," she says. "Calm it down a little bit."

Oswald kisses her again. I suspect that he's trying to follow her example, yet, again his tongue flops around wildly, spraying her with spit. Perhaps he's a little too excited about it.

"Mmph Mmmmph!" Nurse Kim gargles through a mouthful of his demented tongue.

Oswald breaks the kiss.

"Too much?" he asks.

Nurse Kim giggles again.

"You know what?..._Don't change a thing_," She says.

I watch in disgust as they wrap their arms around each other and continue making out. Oswald starts pawing Kim's breasts. Kims hands wander down Oswald's back toward his plush behind. He flinches as her dainty fingers lightly caress it and he pulls away from her, breaking the kiss.

"Ow!" he yelps in complaint.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd been paddled again," says Nurse Kim.

"Don't touch my butt. It hurts," Oswald tells her.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure its not that bad," says Nurse Kim dismissively.

"The doctor hates me. I get beatings every day," says Oswald as a means of trying to convince her that she shouldn't try to squeeze his butt again.

"Aw, sweetie, that's the crazy talking. The doctor is a very nice person." says Nurse Kim in my defense.

They start making out again. After a short time, Kim's hands wander down to Oswald's butt again.

"Ow! Stop it," squeaks Oswald, pushing her hands off of his behind.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Your bottom's so squishy," squeals Nurse Kim.

"You know what, after I break out of here and the bruises heal. You come to my apartment. We'll have a nice dinner. Some fine wine. Afterwards, you come with me to my bed room, and when we make love you can touch my butt as much as you want to. Just please, not right now. It hurts too much," said Oswald.

"I bet you're not even bruised," said Nurse Kim teasingly. "You've probably just got a little redness that'll be better in no time."

"Don't patronize me, Kim."

"Let me see it," said Nurse Kim, grinning seductively.

"Fine. But just to show you how bad it is," said Oswald.

He lowered his pants and turned around to show her the bloody welts and deep bruises on his swollen purple behind. Then he quickly yanked his pants back up and turned toward her again. Kim's expression changed dramatically from jovial to crestfallen.

"Oh no..._Oswald_...I'm sorry. That _is_ terrible. No wonder you've been crying so much. You must be in a lot of pain," said Nurse Kim.

She wrapped her arms around him. He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

"This severity of corporal punishment can't be legal," said Nurse Kim angrily. "I'm going to call the cops and there _will_ be an investigation."

_An investigation, huh?, _I think scathingly. _That won't matter much tomorrow afternoon, because by then he'll be dead and I'll be far, far, away from this god forsaken place._


	6. Chapter 6

6

The next day, Oswald is back in my office. I invite him to sit down in the chair in front of my desk but he doesn't want to.

"I rather not," he says.

Of course not. Sitting will hurt his bottom tremendously.

"You don't have a choice in the matter," I tell him.

Reluctantly, Oswald sits down, he flinches as his sore behind hits the seat and stifles a whimper.

Nurse Kim enter the room. Todays she's wearing blue scrubs with little cartoon penguins on them. Oswald looks happy to see her.

"Kim!" he greets her.

"Good morning," Kim replies cheerfully. She's grinning because she doesn't know that I saw them fondle each other last night. She still thinks that's a secret. Oswald grins back at her. He probably thinks the same thing.

I sip my coffee slowly, using the mug to hide my expression from them. They should believe, at least for now, that they are sharing a private joke at my expense. I lower the coffee mug slowly and then place it back down on my desk. My expression is neutral. I greet Kim politely, as a professional should.

"Good morning, Kim," I say.

"Good morning, Doctor," Nurse Kim replies politely.

"Why are you here today, Kim? I did not request an attendant nurse," I say.

"Dr. Crigsaw feels that Oswald would benefit from my supervision," she says. Dr. Crigsaw is my supervisor but I doubt very much that he would instruct one of his nurses to follow Oswald around all day and not do any actual work. I find it more likely that she's trying to trick me into letting her stay.

"Your supervision won't be necessary here, Kim. Oswald is in good hands," I assure her. I hope that she will take the hint that she isn't wanted and leave. I don't want to have to kill this bitch but, so help me god, I will if she gets in my way.

"I'm sorry but Dr. Crigsaw was very insistent upon the matter," she says.

"Once again, your assistance is not needed, Nurse Kim. Why don't you leave and give Oswald his privacy?" I say.

Again, Nurse Kim doesn't leave. She wants to sit here and watch me so that I don't hurt her little criminal boyfriend. How disgusting.

"Oswald, do you mind if I stay?" she asks Oswald.

"Ofcourse not. By all means, stay," says Oswald.

Nurse Kim finds a seat in the corner of the room and sits down in it. She observes us both quietly, folding her hands in her lap.

Oh well. So I'll have to kill the bitch too. It'll be worth it to see the look on his face when I slice her throat open.

I hook Oswald up to the lie detector and attach the electrodes to his head, chest and stomach. Then I strap his arms to the chair and begin my interrelation. I ask him about his childhood. He tells me a boring story about his mother baking cookies. I demand that he tell me something emotionally damaging about his childhood. He refuses. I push the button on my remote control and shock him.

"Aghh!" he yelps involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut and gridding his teeth against the pain. A pair of tears prick the corners of his eyes.

Nurse Kim rises from her chain and sprints over to him. She puts her arms around him and squeals:

"Oh no, my poor Pengy!"

I push the button on my remote control and shock them both. The girl shrieks and lets go of him. Oswald, cries out in pain. He hyperventilates for a few moments, recovering from the shock, and then his expression shifts form fearful to angry. He doesn't like that I've shocked Nurse Kim.

"Oops. Sorry about that, Kim," I apologize falsely. "You'll have to be more carful around this equipment."

"Why do you have to hurt him like that?" Nurse Kim complains annoyingly.

"I know it might seem harsh, Kim, but a little bit of tough love is good for Oswald. It'll set him strait," I say.

Kim falls silent and returns to her seat at the corner of the room. I shock Oswald again just to enrage her. He squeals pitifully as his body convulses involuntarily with electricity and tears of pain spill from his bulging eyes. After the shock has subsided, he blushes, ashamed of the tears on his face but unable to wipe them off, due to the fact that his arms are restrained.

"Were you bullied as a child, Oswald?" I ask him, my finger hovering threateningly over the shock button on my remote control.

"..._Yes_," he whimpers reluctantly.

"Tell me about that."

Oswald repeats the story about how his mother dressed him in a tuxedo for a formal event at school and the other kids kicked the crap out of him and called him a penguin, causing him to piss his pants. Predictably, this melts the girl's heart, but I am not amused. I want _more_ embarrassing secrets. New ones.

"Was that the only time it happened?" I ask Oswald.

"..._No_," he admits reluctantly.

"Tell me about that."

Oswald tells me that he was beat up more than once. He tells me that the kids in his school called him pissy pants penguin until he was fourteen which was around the age when he started brutally beating anyone who said it. He learned to hide his violence when adults were watching; make them think that he was an innocent victim.

"Violence is bad, Oswald," I say, and I push the button on my remote control administering another shock that makes him yelp. The hypocrisy of me having said this is not lost on me but I pretend like it is. Hypocrisy is more fun that way.

"They had it coming," Oswald snarls angrily, staring me down defiantly. I don't much like that crazy look on his face.

"Violence is bad, Oswald," I repeat condescendingly, before administering another shock.

"_Ouch_!" Oswald yelps as the electricity surges his body.

"Stop it!" Kim interjects annoyingly. I find myself wishing I could zap her again. "Don't hurt him anymore, can't you see he's had enough!"

Silently, I decide that I will give Oswald an extra zap every time that Kim pisses me off. I push the button on my remote. Oswald convulses with electricity and howls with pain. More tears pour out from his eyes. Then, he hangs his head and begins quietly sniffling.

"This process of reconditioning may seem cruel to you, but I assure you that it is very scientific. If Oswald is to be cured of his criminal psychosis, he must be disciplined. If you care for Oswald, Kim, you should see that this is the best thing for him," I say.

Kim falls silent again. I turn back toward Oswald.

"Now tell me about your father, Oswald," I say.

"_Fuck you_," Oswald snaps back at me.

I stare Oswald down, and he flinches, now aware that his temporary lapse in politeness was a terrible mistake.

"Alright. That's it. Now its time for a _spanking_," I say.

I unhook him from the machine and release his arms from the straps binding him to the chair.

"This will be over sooner if you cooperate," I tell him.

Oswald is so broken from his long period of severe abuse that he doesn't argue or resist. He knows the routine. I sip my coffee as he waddles over to a cot on the side of the room and bends over it so that his chubby butt is in the air. He pulls his pants down, exposing the brutalized purple flesh beneath the cloth.

"I'm r-ready," he sniffles.

There's a metal ruler on my desk. I pick it up and walk over to the place where Oswald is bent over, waiting for his punishment. I strike him across the ass with the ruler and he yelps loudly.

Kim is crying now. Apparently she can't bare to watch her precious criminal boyfriend cry his eyes out while he gets his ass beat. _ Why_ doesn't she leave?

"Oh..._Ossy_...," she Sniffles stupidly.

I strike Oswald again. His fat ass giggles and her lets out a pitiful sob. A few angry red welts are raised on his butt cheeks.

_SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!_

I spank Oswald's ass hard with the ruler.

"Ow! OW! OWW! OWWW! _OWWW_!" he whales between sobs.

"Stop it! Stop hitting him!" Kim interjects again.

I acknowledge Kim's annoying comment by striking Oswald as hard as I can on the bloodiest, most heavily welted portion of his ass. This is near were the cheek meets the thy. He cries out in pain. Then, puts his face in his hands and starts loudly weeping.

By this point, I think that Kim has realized that I punish Oswald for her speaking, because she remains silent. No more does she attempt to argue with my methods or offer Oswald comfort.

I smack Oswald again and his breath hitches in his throat momentarily. He quickly resumes his obnoxious weeping. Kim is paged on the intercom. She is needed somewhere else in the hospital. I watch as she rises from her chair and exits the room. As the door slams behind her, I rush over to it and lock it shut. Then, I walk over to my desk, put the ruler back on top of it, and open up one of the drawers.

I withdraw my trusty steel pipe from the drawer. Then I walk back over to Oswald, raise the pipe as high as I can and slap his left butt cheek with it. Oswald yells out in pain. His weeping becomes more rapid and frantic. The pipe has left a bloody gash on his ass. I raise the pipe a second time and smack his right cheek with it, blooding it. He yells again, and puts his hands over his head to comfort himself.

"P-please no more," he begs me, his voice distorted from prolonged weeping. "Don't hit me again, please! I'm s-sorry! I'll tell you a-anything you want to know! I promise I won't be disrespectful again!"

I return the steel pipe to my desk drawer.

"Sit down, Oswald," I say. "I'll hook you up to the machine again."

"P-please, don't make me sit down," he sputters as he straitens up and pulls his pants back on. He winces as the fabric lightly brushes his bottom.

"Sit down or you'll get another spanking," I threaten.

Oswald obeys me. I reattach him to the lie detector and the electrodes. I strap his arms down to the arms of the chair. Its getting late now. The Asylum is quiet. Prisoners have been returned to their cells for bed. Most of the staff has left for the day.

Time to kill him.

"Do you like that girl, Oswald?" I ask him.

"You mean Nurse K-kim?" Oswald stutters in reply.

"Yes."

Oswald nods slowly.

"Why?" I ask.

"She reminds me of my mother," Oswald says. His reply is so creepy that it must be true.

"Tell me something else, Oswald," I say, my finger hovering over the shock button on my remote control.

He looks at me fearfully. He can tell by the tone of my voice that I'm about to ask him something damning.

"Did you kill a woman named Rebecca?" I ask.

Oswald thinks about this for a moment and then replies:

"I don't know."

I push the button on my remote control and he yowls as his body is flooded with electricity.

"Did you kill a woman named Rebecca?" I ask again.

"I don't know!," Oswald answers frantically. "I-I've killed a lot of people! I can't be expected to keep track of them all!"

I narrow my eyes.

"Think hard, Oswald," I say.

The room is quiet for a moment while Oswald thinks this over.

"...No," replies Oswald after awhile. "I don't recall killing any women."

I push the button my remote control, electrocuting him again.

"Aaagh!" he yells.

"She was a very mannish woman," I growl.

I approach the place where Oswald sits, and as I do, the expressionless mask of professionalism melts away from my face. He must see the rage in my eyes clearly now, because he starts hyperventilating. His hands grip the arms of the chair. His eyes grow wide.

"She was my world, Oswald, did you know that?" I hiss threateningly "When I lost her, my world was broken. My mind was broken. I lost my grip...on everything.

I retrieve the serrated knife from my desk drawer and hold it aloft. Oswald eyes the knife fearfully. He struggles against the straps which bind his arms to the chair. A look of mortal terror creeps over his pale face.

"Please! Don't do this!" he begs pitifully. "I'm sorry for your loss! Really I am! But killing me won't bring her back!"

I ignore Oswald's plea for his life and continue my monologue.

"I lost my grip...on everything...so much so that I might have belonged in this asylum. Did you know that, Oswald? Could you tell? You did that to me. You made me this crazy mother-fucker."

"...P-please don't kill me...I'll give you anything...money, do you want money? L-let me go now...I'll...I'll h-happily write you a check..." Oswald stutters, attempting to muster what he can of his old charm; attempting to win me over with this empty, false bribe.

I advance on him and he presses himself against the back of the chair. I resume my monologue as though I hadn't been interrupted.

"I was a blithering raving loon after I lost her, Oswald," I say. "So much so that they might have thrown me in this god forsaken nuthouse, but I was smarter, you see. I was smarter than all of those retarded morons. You know why? Because I have a doctorate in clinical phycology. When I have theories with hypothesizes that need testing, the institution is more than willing to accommodate me. I have seniority. People respect me. They don't question my methods. They applaud them. With reverence. Unfortunately, however, I no longer care for this sham of a life, whether or not people respect me is no longer relevant. It brings me no happiness, Oswald. I do not wish to continue this miserable existence without my precious Rebecca. I will meet her tonight in the next world...but before I do that-"

I press the tip of my knife to Oswald's quivering throat.

"-I'm sending you strait to hell," I growl menacingly.

The door to my office flies open and Kim rushes into the room.

"Don't you touch him!" she shrieks. I catch a glimpse of blond hair and cartoon penguin scrubs, before she tackles me, knocking the knife out of my hand. I push her off of me and lunge for the knife.

"You're not the only one who can bug a room, you know!" Kim shouts, grabbing one of my ankles as I craw toward the knife.

I smash my foot backward into her face and she releases me, gripping a broken bloody nose. My hand is inches away from the fallen knife, when she jumps back up and tackles me again, her tiny body pinning mine to the ground.

"You'll go to jail for a long time after the authorities see what you were planning!" she shouts. Is that the bitch's way of telling me that she's wearing a wire? How did she manage to break through that door?

I turn around and elbow her in the face, easily knocking her off of me again. My hands close around the handle of the knife and I stand up. My hair is disheveled; my glasses skewed. The girl screams and charges at me. I hold the knife out in front of me and Kim screams as she rushes forward, accidentally impaling herself on the sharp blade.

"Kim! NO!" Oswald shouts.

Her body convulses and dark rivulets of blood gush from her open mouth, I remove the blade from her chest and she falls, hitting the ground with a hollow _thud_.

I turn toward Oswald. Tears are streaming from his blood shot eyes, but his expression has otherwise changed. His face, once broken; flaccid; condemned to an endless humiliating torture which he was powerless to escape-is now contorted by a frightening rage.

"How dare you." he hisses dangerously, standing up. Some way or another, he has managed to wriggle free from his restraints. Perhaps I did not fasten them securely enough. Perhaps he had been hiding some kind of a sharp prison shank up his sleeve, which he used to saw through his restraints while I was distracted. I don't have much time to think about it. Oswald staggers toward me, wrestles the knife out of my hand and pushes me to the ground. Despite being crippled, he is much stronger than the girl was. I jump back up and try to wrench the knife out of his hand. He over powers me, easily pushing me back to the ground.

"How_ dare_ you," he says again. His voice is trembles as does the knife, which is still wet with Nurse Kim's blood. I jump back to my feet and run toward the door. He grabs me by the back my shirt and pulls me back toward him. I spin around and his eyes lock on mine, the expression there is cold; pitiless.

"Now you have to _die_," Oswald whispers coldly, and then he draws his hand back, quickly stabbing me in the chest with the knife.

I scream. He pulls the knife out and blood pours out over my white lab coat. I fall to the ground. He cackles insanely and jumps on top of me, stabbing me in the chest again and again. I'm screaming. I see red everywhere. It splatters his grinning face and clothes. He's still cackling. I'm still screaming. I grow faint from blood loss. He's saying something about the future. About Gotham. About himself. About the world. Something that I assume he must think is deep. I don't hear much of it, his voice is drowned out by my screams...and then by my mindless gargling.

My vision fades. The world goes dark.

And silent.


End file.
